Humbled in Sri Lanka Ch. 02

"Not so high and mighty now are you, you white dog?" asked the trader.

His English was flawless but he was chewing some betel nut (I could see the red juices dribbling from his mouth as he spoke) and his pronunciation was not altogether clear.

"No sir." I said as humbly as I could.

He laughed harshly then cleared his throat spat out the juices which had by now almost filled his mouth. They landed on my face and some even fell inside my own mouth. I was on the verge of spitting them out when the trader shot me an angry glance. Reluctantly, I swallowed both the juice and the thick phlegm that was mixed within it. The trader laughed uproariously as I gagged and so did a strange voice behind me.

The trader said something in Sinhala and a few moments later the stranger, a thin, bespectacled young man of some twenty odd years, appeared at his side carrying one of my lawn chairs. He set it down on the grass and the trader sat down on it.

"Are you starting to learn your place now?" he asked

"Yes sir." I answered "My place is beneath you and all Sri Lankans. I was wrong to consider myself your superior and treat you so badly. It is you who are my betters and I deserve to be treated accordingly."

"Fine words," sneered the trader "but can you live up to them?"

"I will try my very best sir." I replied pathetically.

"Then you may start by providing me with a small service." he said "Your wet garden has made my sandals very dirty. They are covered in mud for which you are responsible. You will clean them for me. Now!"

"But I am still tied up!"I protested "Besides, I have no water or cloth!"

"You have a tongue, don't you?" snapped the trader "Your mouth is so used to uttering filthy words to Sri Lankans that it won't notice a little more dirt inside it."

Ignoring the silent pleading of my eyes, he lifted up his right foot and I began to lick off the filth that covered its sole; mud and grass and I knew not what else. The taste was foul and fouler still were the sensations I felt when I swallowed some of it. I almost threw up on the spot and found I could no longer continue licking. Needless to say, the trader was far from pleased. In fact, he was furious.

"You disgusting white dog!" he shrieked "How dare you refuse my orders! How dare you turn your head away from my majestic Sri Lankan foot? You still think you are better than me, don't you scum? It seems you need to be taught your lesson the old-fashioned way."

He stood up and began to unbuckle his thick, leather belt. Unlike the others who had abused me that day he was wearing western rather than traditional clothes.

"Please sir!" I whimpered "Don't hit me! Let me try again! Please sir!"

His answer was a stroke of the belt across my face which made me cry out in pain. He laughed and walked behind me till he was out of sight.

"Your begging is a waste of time." he informed me "I am not a merciful man. You had your chance and you threw it away. Now you will suffer the consequences of your foolish pride."

The belt lashed my back again and once more I cried out. It rose and fell a further eighteen times, striking my arse, my back, my legs and my arms, but even though I literally screamed in agony neither Sir nor anyone else came to my assistance. As for the young stranger, I was puzzled to see him moving constantly around me and to see also that he was taking photographs of my ordeal. The pain I was suffering prevented me from considering the matter any further.

I was sobbing loudly by the time the trader had finished beating me but I was still able to hear the words he spoke to me from my chair, the chair that he had made his throne.

"I don't know why you are crying so loudly." he said "I did not hurt you that badly. You will be bruised for several days but your owner was very insistent that I do not break your skin. He said your customers might not pay as much for damaged goods. I suppose he's right but it is a pity. By the way," he gestured towards the young man who grinned at me "this is our village photographer. He will be staying with you for some time, recording your adventures. The whole village is keen to use or rather abuse the arrogant white man who lorded it over them for so long. They will pay to see what others have done to you and so, I am sure, will internet viewers. You could become a star in the local market. Perhaps you could be sold to a brothel in Colombo. There are many who would pay handsomely for a willing white whore, particularly if he came as part of a couple."

I was horrified beyond words.

"P..p..please!" I stammered eventually "Please don't do that! I'll pay you anything you want! Please don't put me on the internet or sell me to a whorehouse!"

"Unfortunately, that is not my decision to make." smirked the trader "It is your owner who will decide your ultimate fate. I advise you to be the best whore and slave you can be in order to win his favour otherwise you will find yourself in the hands of someone much worse than him. In the meantime, the photos my friend here takes will ensure you never ever think of trying to escape from your new life."

"You will never need to use them." I grovelled "I will be a good slave for my Sri Lankan masters. I promise I will!"

"We will see." smiled the trader "Now open your mouth wide. I have a better use for it than talking."

Pulling down his zip, he pulled out his long, thin cock and I prepared to receive it gratefully in my mouth as I had done the others that day. To my surprise, the trader held his cock only inches from my face but he did not force it inside my mouth.

"I am not gay." he said with a sneer, replying to my questioning gaze "I have no desire to have any man suck my cock, especially not a filthy white dog like you. No, my cock has only one use for you; as a urinal."

With those words he proceeded to piss on my face, filling my mouth with acrid yellow liquid that ran down my chin when I failed to swallow it fast enough to take another mouthful. This made my tormentor laugh and he then proceeded to soak the rest of my face and hair before shaking off the last few drops of his piss into my eyes. The photographer recorded the whole humiliating event and laughed so hard that he almost pissed himself.

"Goodbye for now my little white piss-drinker." smiled the trader "My time with you today is over. I will be back again though. There are many lessons you still have to learn."

I started to cry again and he and the photographer responded with mocking laughter. I was still crying long after the trader had left and Sir had washed the piss from my face and hair with the hose.

"No cry." said Sir, untying my bonds "Sir put cream on your body, make pain go away. You rest then. You have much work tonight. Special guests coming for dinner and they need good servant. You make them happy, you make Sir very happy. You like that, yes?"

"Yes Sir!" I replied and I was not lying. Making Sir, the man I had so arrogantly thought of as only an ignorant gardener, happy really did make me happy as well.

I crawled behind Sir as he walked towards my house. He did not even have to command me. Acting as his dog had, in only a few hours, become second nature to me.

Sir led me to what had once been the maid's room.

"You sleep here now." Sir informed me "This servant room. This your room. Sir sleep in master's bed now."

Who was I to disagree. He truly was the master now and I was his lowly servant.

As he had promised, Sir rubbed balm all over my aching body. He was remarkably gentle as he applied the cream, treating me almost lovingly or at least so I imagined. I knew he was merely protecting his investment, looking after his livestock but whenever our eyes met, I found myself wishing he would kiss me. It never happened of course. I was nothing to him but a piece of white meat, a fuck-toy to be used and discarded at will. How could a real man like him ever have feelings for something like me?

"Sleep now!" said Sir, rising to his feet "You work hard later."

He pointed to a metal bed with a painfully thin mattress, the bed I had bought for the maid I had dismissed and which I had considered too good for her. I hauled myself onto it and even though it was the most uncomfortable bed I had ever lain in, I fell asleep within a minute so exhausted was I after all my exertions that day.

It was after dark when Sir woke me.

"Wash face and go to kitchen." he ordered "Guests at table and want food now."

I made my way to the maid's toilet, urinated and washed my face. Then, still naked, I walked to the kitchen. I was astonished to find the cook I had dismissed that morning, a large handsome-faced woman of around forty five years of age, stood in her usual place beside the cooker. She was preparing some sort of curry dish. She turned and looked angrily at me and I found myself at a loss for words. Frankly, after the way I had treated her that morning, I was too terrified of the revenge she might now take on me to say anything. In the event, I was spared the trouble. She had no interest in scolding me or conversing with me. She simply wanted to use me.

"Floor!" she barked and I fell instantly to my knees.

The cook lifted up her skirt and exposed her big, broad arse to me.

"No water in toilet. You clean instead. You know how, piss-drinker."

It seemed the trader had lost no time in broadcasting my new skill around the village. It seemed also that I was about to add another skill to my repertoire because, disgusting though the task I had been assigned was, I was powerless to refuse it.

Without a word, I shuffled forward on my knees, prised the cook's thick arse cheeks apart and stuck my face between her crack. The smell was not a pleasant one. As she had so honestly admitted, she needed to be cleaned. Forcing myself not to gag or withdraw too prematurely, I now proceeded to force my tongue inside her arsehole and start licking up the debris inside, I did not swallow it. I merely gathered it in my mouth then carried on licking.

It was obvious to me that the cook very much appreciated my attentions. The deeper inside her I licked, the more she swayed her arse and groaned with rising excitement.

"Fingers!" she gasped "Fingers inside now!"

I lifted my hand and reached for her hairy pussy, gently stroking her hairs and then her labia before pushing first one and then two fingers inside her and tickling her surprisingly large clit. The finger fucking I was giving her pussy and the licking I was giving her arse sent the cook into a frenzy of ecstasy. So hard did her arse slam back against my face that I feared I would fall over and I wondered if I would be carrying new bruises when I woke up the next morning. My fingers, meanwhile, felt as if they were being swallowed alive so fiercely did her vagina suck at them. I knew it would not be long before she came to orgasm and I was right. It was only moments later that my fingers were covered in the warmth of her juices and her body began to shudder. I found myself pushed away from her arse and took the opportunity to wash out my mouth in the sink. The cook did not object. She was too lost in her own little world of pleasure.

I knelt back down and waited for her to regain control of herself. It took some time but eventually she turned to me with a smile on her face.

"You are a very good arse licker." she said slowly and deliberately as if she had rehearsed the words "You make Madame very happy. Sir will be pleased."

"Thank you Madame." I replied, bowing my head.

Madame. The word almost stuck in my throat. Sir had proved himself my superior. This woman, a woman who had most likely stolen from me had not. Indeed, even though I had licked her arse clean, I still thought of her as a rude and insolent servant rather than a Lady on a par with my beautiful wife. It was a simple act of kindness that changed my opinion of her in an instant.

"When dog is good he get a treat." said the cook, gazing into my eyes "You very good dog. You get nice treat from Madame."

She sat down on a chair and let her sari and undergarments fall from her shoulders to reveal the largest pair of breasts I had seen in a long time. They were easily double the size of my wife's. They must have been truly glorious when the cook was a young woman and they were still magnificent even though they were sagging.

"You like?" asked the cook even though my cock had already answered for me

"Yes Madame." I breathed, unable to lift my eyes from her massive mammaries.

"Then come here doggy." she smiled "Come and suck Madame's big titties!"

Where she had learned such a word I did not know but hearing it made my cock leap to attention. Madame's smile grew even broader.

Madame indicated that I was to sit on her broad thighs and I did so. Then, lifting up each of her huge breasts in turn, I sucked on them greedily, licking and biting her thick nipples till they turned the brightest brown imaginable and throbbed as hard as my cock. Madame closed her eyes and once more began to sway from side to side as pleasure consumed her. Her chubby hand reached out and seized my cock and I offered no resistance as she began to first stroke and then pump it with ever increasing speed and energy.

She was in the throes of her own orgasm when I came inside her hand. She smeared the cum over her breasts, paying particular attention to her nipples and I licked and sucked every last drop of it up. It was, I believe, the touch of my mouth on her nipples that final time that drove her to her third orgasm of the evening.

"So good!" she murmured, rocking back and forth while she cradled me against her breasts "You make Madame feel so good."

I am not sure why I said what I said next but I said it anyway.

"Your name is not Madame."

"No!" she responded angrily, lifting me upright while gripping my arms tightly "I am Madame now!"

"No." I said quietly "Your name is not Madame. Your name is Goddess!"

She laughed softly and then did the most remarkable thing. Pulling me towards her, she kissed me long and hard upon the lips and even tongue-fucked me gently. Yes, my Goddess actually kissed ME, the lowest of the low, a mere piss-drinking arse-cleaner. She truly was divine to be so generous to one who had treated her so appallingly. I am not ashamed to say that tears came to my eyes as I realised that from that moment on I would be as devoted to her happiness as I was to Sir's.

We were woken from our reverie by a cry of "Food!" from the direction of the dining room. I stood up and Goddess quickly readjusted her clothing to once more cover her beautiful breasts.

Filling three plates on a tray with food, she passed the tray to me and ordered me to serve the guests their first course. There was no tenderness in her voice now, She had reverted once again to her rightful role as mistress of the house. As I left her side, however, she sent me on my way with a playful smack on my arse.

I was not surprised to see the photographer sitting at the table. I had recognised his voice when he called for the food. I was more than surprised, indeed I was shocked, when I saw the other two guests. They were beggars, an old man and woman who regularly squatted outside my gate in the hope of attracting some loose change or scraps of food. I had never given them any of course. I had always been of the firm opinion that the more you gave to such people, the more you would have to keep on giving. They would never leave you in peace and would bring others of their kind to your home in the hope of sharing their luck. They had much in common with vermin and that was how I regarded them; human vermin but vermin none the less. I had lost count of the number of times I had driven them away from my gate only to have them return the next day. Even calling the police and loosing my dog on them had had no effect. In the end, refusing to let them continue to annoy me, I had simply closed my eyes to them and they had melted away into the background as if they truly were invisible.

Now, however, they could not be ignored. They were in my home, sitting at my table and they were expecting me to wait on them hand and foot. Beggars, filthy common beggars were expecting me to serve them! I had almost reconciled myself to being a slave for Sri Lankans but there were limits even to that commitment and this was one of them. My face flushed with anger, I turned on my heels and started to walk back towards the kitchen but as I did so the photographer leaped from his seat and grabbed my arm.

"Not so fast!" he said in a low voice "You have insulted your guests by turning your back on them. I suggest you apologise right now or you will be very sorry."

"They are not guests!" I hissed angrily "They are scum, worthless lowlife scum who contribute nothing to society. They are nothing more than parasites and I will not serve the likes of them in my own house!"

"They are not scum, they are Sri Lankans." the young man replied calmly "That automatically makes them your superiors whatever their station in life. You should be honoured to serve them in whatever way they demand. As for this being your house, you forget that it now your owner's. You live on here merely as his slave or his pet. You are nothing more than a kind of dog and since your guests are humans that too is another reason why they are better than you. Now apologise to your betters or I shall call your owner and he will punish you in front of them. Remember too that I also have some very interesting photos in my collection which I am sure your friends and colleagues would love to see."

I was not convinced by his arguments but his threats were very real. Placing the tray on the table, I crouched down on all fours and crawled to the feet of each beggar in turn, kissing their dusty callouses and loudly begging their forgiveness. They did not understand my words, of course, but they appreciated the sentiment and signalled that they did indeed forgive me by each patting me on the head as they would have any obedient dog.

The old man said something to me in Sinhala and his wife and the photographer laughed.

"He said he is very impressed by your show of respect for him and his wife," the photographer translated "but that you had better hurry up and serve the food now. He and his wife are both very hungry and they can't wait to taste their delicious white meat!"

I said nothing. Instead I bowed my head and served the beggars their food before standing to attention behind them in case they wished to issue me with any instructions.

"Stand closer to them." said the photographer, translating for the old man "They want to play with you while they eat."

Reluctantly, I moved forward so that I stood between them. Immediately, the old woman placed one hand on my cock and started jerking it while she continued eating with her other hand. The old man, meanwhile, gently stroked my arse before tickling my arsehole with his bony finger.

"He likes your bottom very much." said the photographer cum translator who now had his camera trained on me "He says it is firm but soft, just like a woman's. He has always wanted to fuck a white woman like your wife but your arse will be the next best thing to a real cunt. As for his wife, she says she never imagined that an ugly, arrogant bastard like you could have such a beautiful big cock. She can hardly wait till she feels it inside her."

I shuddered. Kissing the feet of these common beggars had been bad enough and even now I flinched at their touch. Being fucked by them would be the most degrading, humiliating experience of my life. Just thinking about it made my stomach churn. My cock, however, was growing longer and thicker with every passing moment and my arse was moving back and forth in tandem with the old man's finger. My mind may be desperately trying to deny it but my body had become that of a whore.